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  Jenny Blackhawk, Mary Billy said, carried the scars of Sister Enid’s beating. Large and strong, the Cheyenne girl had fought back when the teacher struck her. This had enraged Sister Enid. She had called Sister Louisa and Sister Bernadette to her office and ordered them to strap Jenny into a chair.

  Sister Kathleen had heard the shouting and followed Sister Bernadette into the room.

  Arguing with Sister Enid, Sister Kathleen had told the head mistress that it was Jenny’s first offence. The student didn’t understand what stealing was. Having Jenny sent to the attic was punishment enough.

  My rules are to be obeyed! Sister Enid had shouted.

  Sister Enid had used a riding crop on Jenny’s legs. Ten lashes. Mary Billy said. Not once had the Cheyenne girl cried out. It was not until the final lash had creased Jenny Blackhawk’s face that Jenny had even whimpered.

  That day, Mary Billy said, was the only time she had seen Sister Kathleen cry. Sister Enid and Sister Louisa dragged Jenny Blackhawk to the attic. Even Sister Bernadette had protested the harsh treatment. The young sister had gone to her room and stayed there for the following two days.

  Six months had passed since then, but Jenny’s legs still bore the angry red welts of Sister Enid’s riding crop. Her pretty face was marred by the raised ridge running from her left cheekbone to her rounded chin.

  Sister Enid’s shrill voice interrupted my thoughts, and I jerked, feeling guilty. I swallowed hard before I glanced toward the dining room. The teachers sat and talked after finishing their mid-day meal. In a few more minutes they would return to the classrooms.

  I wondered if Sister Enid had cut out Jenny Blackhawk’s tongue after she too the girl to the attic. Never, since I had come to this school, had Jenny Blackhawk spoken.

  “Sister Kathleen,” Sister Enid called. “I wish to have a word with you.”

  The teacher frowned at the headmistress’s summons.

  “I’ll be there in a moment, Sister,” she replied. Turning to Mary Billy she said, “Make sure all is in order. Tay sweep the floor and make certain every speck of dirt is placed in the pail. Cover the container with the lid when you are finished. When Anna Thunder returns instruct her to leave the slop bucket on the back porch.”

  Turning on her heel, Sister Kathleen walked to the dining room.

  My heart pounded. Glancing toward the back porch, I searched for Anna Thunder. Why was she late? Soon Sister Enid and Sister Louisa would come to the kitchen for inspection. Afterwards, I would be sent to the classroom. I could not dispose of the bread without getting caught.

  I swept the dirt from the floor into a small mound and knelt down to brush it into a metal container.

  Sister Enid’s angry voice carried into the kitchen and I cringed.

  “Up to now, Sister Kathleen, I have given you the benefit of the doubt. I even let your defiance regarding Jenny Blackhawk pass. This, however, is a mistake I cannot over look. Sister Louisa said was hidden beneath the hutch.”

  “Hidden? Or simply placed there by Sister Louisa?”

  “How dare you make such a statement,” Sister Louisa sputtered. “You have no right to question me.”

  “I have every right. Sister Enid has assigned me to overseeing the kitchen and dining room, not you. It is to me the students are answerable. I am held accountable to Sister Enid for their actions. At every turn, Sister Louisa, you have snooped into matters which do not concern you—"

  “How dare you!”

  “Sisters, this is not the time nor place for such a discussion. Need I remind you, Sister Kathleen, you are held accountable to me, as is Sister Louisa. As is each and every student in this school.”

  “I’m certain the items were misplaced or dropped. My students have no use for a place setting of silverware!”

  “No? This knife would make an adequate weapon, don’t you think, Sister Louisa?”

  “Weapon? When the kitchen is filled with carving knives. They would--”

  “Steal those first?” Sister Louisa interrupted.

  “I did not say that!” Regaining her composure, she continued. “Each kitchen knife is counted by Sister Louisa and myself during inspection, is it not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what better way for one of the girls to make a trade?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Isn’t that what Jenny Blackhawk’s intended to do after she ran away? Sister Enid asked.

  “No. Jenny didn’t understand that the items were to be used. . .that they weren’t hers to keep.”

  “Jenny Blackhawk understood, all right.” Sister Louisa said. “All those Indian girls understand.”

  “Understand what, Sister Louisa?” Sister Kathleen asked, her voice shaking with anger.

  “They understand what they steal, they can trade.”

  “Trade for what? The students in this school own nothing of value.”

  “Jenny Blackhawk knew all about the trading post. It’s only a two day walk from the school. “Anything of value may be traded there, no questions asked. The girl planned to trade for provisions and passage back to her home.”

  “That isn’t true!”

  “Let me enlighten you about the character of your precious heathens, Sister Kathleen. They have no sense of honor. They will lie to you and steal from you every chance they get. Every Indian in this place will do the same. Even your pet, Mary Billy. Not one of them will amount to anything but trouble.”

  At the mention of her name, Mary Billy let out a sharp gasp.

  I turned and watched her face become the color of ash. “Sister Enid is angry. Very angry, “she whispered.

  I watched her hands shake as she dried the china plate.

  “Mary Billy!” Sister Enid shouted.

  The plate slid from Mary Billy’s hands. The fragile dish hit the floor and shattered, tiny slivers of china dancing all over the polished floor.

  “Oh, Tay, what have I done?”

  I believe much trouble and blood would be saved if we opened our hearts more.

  I will tell you in my own way how the Indians sees things.

  The white man has more words to tell you how things look to him, but it does not require many words to speak the truth.

  Chief Joseph

  Nez Perce

  Chapter 8

  Acting quickly, I grabbed the broom and began sweeping. “Go. Hurry or Sister Louisa will come.”

  Mary Billy ran into the dining room.

  For a moment I could only hear the throbbing of my heart, and the rasping pulsations in my ears. Uncertain of what to say or do next, my hands trembled. Tears blurred my vision as I desperately tried to capture each sliver of china.

  Inspection.

  The word screamed across my mind like the eerie cry of the bird of darkness. I knew Sister Enid would search me and find the bread! She would fall upon me, vengeful, her hatred sharp like the talons of the owl.

  She would send me to the attic!

  Glancing around the kitchen I looked for a place to hide the bread. The cupboards, oven, glass jars, all were inspected by Sister Louisa. No place was safe from her sharp eyes.

  I pulled the bread from my pocket and broke off a large chunk, cramming it into my mouth. I gagged and my stomach heaved. I was scared. My mouth now stone dry, caused my throat to clench fighting my every attempt to swallow the bread. I knew I was going to choke.

  My breaths came in shallow gasps.

  I coughed and coughed. Suddenly, I could not breath!

  Panic over came me. Grabbing my apron, I leaned forward and spat the bread from my mouth.

  I heard the floor boards creak.

  Sister Enid was coming!

  Desperately, I glanced around the kitchen looking for a way to dispose of the bread.

  Footsteps, heavy and certain, were almost to the kitchen.

  There was no more time.

  I stumbled in my effort to escape, my toe hitting the edge of the dust pail.

  The dust pail. Surely,
Sister Enid would not look inside.

  Seizing the cover, I dumped the bread from my apron. Then pulled the remainder from my pocket. Breaking it into pieces, I dropped them into the pail. I swept the remains of the shattered plate on top and quickly closed the lid.

  Now I had a chance.

  Wiping my chin with my sleeve, I brushed, the crumbs from my shirt. I turned and stood straight and tall, my back against the wall.

  Keeping all expression from my face, I watched Sister Enid enter the kitchen.

  “You, girl,” she said, “stand over by the hearth.”

  I turned to obey, my knees wobbly as I rushed across the room.

  Sister Louisa brushed past me. She smelled of moth balls and lye soap. Her silver hair, fashioned in a tight knot, resembled an old pin cushion kept in the sewing room. Whenever Sister Enid was near, Sister Louisa twittered like a small caged bird. Her blue veined fingers continuously adjusted the hairpins in that tight little knot.

  Rage and fear boiled from inside me. I had an urgent need to yank all those little sliver hair pins from Sister Louisa’s hair. I wanted to scream in Sister Enid’s face and tell her that the Nde would kill her for such cruelty.

  I knew the anger would do me no good. Even though I hated this school and hated Sister Enid, I had no other place to go.

  For now, I must obey Sister Enid’s rules. I would learn the white man’s rules and beat them at their own game.

  I took a steadying breath to calm myself. I would not let the teachers know what I was feeling. Grandfather would have been proud of me. One, two, three, calming breaths. I might obey their rules, but they would never rule over me.

  I watched Sister Enid move around the kitchen, her white gloved fingertips running over every wooden surface of the kitchen.

  Four, five, six, more breaths. My shoulders relaxed, I could do this. Soon Sister Enid would be finished and I would be sent back to the classroom.

  Sister Louisa opened the oven door and counted the tins. Sister Enid counted the china plates.

  Two plates are missing, girl,” she said, her blue eyes the color of steel.

  “No. Sister. One plate was broken.”

  “Two are missing, girl.”

  “Mary Bill broke one plate.”

  “Only one?”

  “Yes, teacher.”

  Sister Enid fell silent then continued to inspect the kitchen. Her gaze scanning the floor for signs of the accident.

  I held my breath as she neared the dust pail. I watched Sister Enid glance at the cupboard and then at the pail.

  “Did you sweep the floor, girl?”

  “Yes, teacher.”

  Her fingertips touched the lid of the pail.

  I felt my spine go ridged, and a small gasp left my lips.

  “Girl, I’ll have no lying—”

  “No, Sister.”

  “Have you been stealing, girl? Tell me now.”

  The back door creaked. I looked over my shoulder.

  Anna Thunder

  “You, girl!” Sister Louisa, said, slapping my shoulder. “Pay attention when Sister Enid is speaking to you. Turn around.”

  “Yes, Sister.”

  “Answer the question. Did you steal anything from the kitchen?”

  “No, teacher. I take nothing.”

  Though my gaze was fastened on Sister Enid, I knew the Comanche was heading in my direction. Her gait uneven, I guessed she was carrying the slop bucket. She would expect me to give her my slice of bread.

  “You, Anna Thunder,” Sister Louisa screeched. Take that filthy slop bucket outside.”

  “Sister Kathleen said—”

  “I don’t care what Sister Kathleen told you. You will do as I say! Now take that bucket outside.”

  Anna Thunder did as she was told, then returned to the kitchen.

  The Comanche stood beside me, her thin hands clenched into tight fists.

  “Where bread?” she whispered.

  I kept my gaze on Sister Enid, shaking my head. Anna Thunder was foolhardy to risk being caught by the teacher.

  The teachers were talking and for several moments paid no attention to us.

  “Little sister more sick. Where bread?”

  “Gone.”

  “Give to me.”

  I risked a quick glance at the Comanche. “No!” I hissed.

  “Silence!” Sister Enid commanded.

  “Sister Louisa, let Sister Kathleen know I want the two Cheyenne girls brought in here. Everyone will be questioned.”

  Pulling the silverware from her apron pocket. Sister Enid slammed it on the wooden counter. “I will have my explanation for this, girls.”

  Anna Thunder’s hands clawed her apron. “Anna Thunder no take silver.”

  Sister Enid gave her a cruel smile. “Perhaps not. You know who did take the silverware, don’t you Anna? Both you and Mary Billy seem to know everything that happens in this school. You watch everyone with those rave eyes, don’t you? Waiting for your chance to escape. But you can’t run away right now, can you Anna? Not when you little sister is so sick.”

  Anna Thunder shook with rage. I almost felt sorry for the Comanche. I knew that if her sister were well, Anna Thunder would have struck Sister Enid.

  My gaze locked with Sister Enid’s. She nodded at me, her thin face looking more like a death mask than a human. She was going to force Anna Thunder to name me as the thief.

  “Many students have the sickness—diphtheria. Mary Billy is ill now. Just like your sister. I telegraphed for the doctor when I went into town. . .but now…”

  “Anna Thunder hate Sister Enid.”

  “Yes, I know. I see you watching me. Hating me. But you need me, don’t you Anna? You need me to protect your sister. To make certain she gets well. Your little sister is very weak, isn’t she, Anna? She isn’t getting any better.”

  “No! Little Fawn stronger. Fever gone.”

  “No, Anna, her fever has returned. She isn’t going to get well without the doctor. Little Fawn needs medicine.”

  Anna Thunder shook her head.

  “The doctor will arrive tomorrow. I am the only one who can send for him. If I do not send a wagon to town he will not come to the school. The doctor will remain in town for the night and return to Pine Ride on the next stage.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, Anna. The doctor will return to his home and Little Fawn will not have the medicine. Little Fawn will die.”

  “Little Fawn not die!”

  I watched the tears stream down Anna Thunder’s face. “Little Fawn, not die!” she shouted.

  Sister Enid, walked toward the Comanche, grabbing her by the shoulders.

  The teacher shook Anna Thunder. Again, and again, until Anna Thunder could hardly stand.

  “Tell me who stole the silverware.”

  I took a deep breath and wiped my damp hands down the side of my shirt.

  How smooth must be the language of the whites, when they can make right look like wrong, and wrong look like right.

  --Black Hawk

  Sauk

  Chapter 9

  Anna Thunder sobbed, “Little Fawn.”

  “Who stole the silverware? Answer me!” Sister Enid continued to shake the Comanche.

  The teacher seemed to have lost all self-control, gritting her teeth and breathing heavily. Anna Thunder turned blue. And couldn’t catch her breath. Several moments later, I watched the Comanche’s eyes roll back and her lids closed. Her thin body went limp and she slumped to the floor.

  Though my hatred for Anna Thunder ran strong and deep, it was a horrible sight. The vengeful way Sister Enid fell upon the Comanche filled my heart with anger—an anger that was impossible for me to conquer. Sister Enid’s actions and her words sickened me.

  With a Nde war cry, I hurled myself at the teacher!

  I didn’t blink when she brought her fist against my temple. My skull was tough. Nor did I flinch when she screeched in my ear.

  There was something unnatural in the way
Sister Enid looked at me. Her eyes were washed-out blue-green, like that of a dead owl. Unfocused. Unseeing. Yet fixed upon me.

  I heard the sound of running footsteps.

  Someone grabbed me by the collar and dragged me, feet flying, to the corner of the room. Once there, she threw me against the wall. I saw it was Sister Sarah when she grabbed a handful of my hair and pounded my head against the wall.

  Slapping my face again, and again, Sister Sarah’s hand covered my cheek, until I thought I would pass out.

  I asked the Creator to stop my tears, for they were pushing behind my eyes. I refused to let my enemy see a weakness in me.

  I tried to stand, my weight supported only by the wall behind me as I edged myself to the corner. I breathed the smell of moth balls, of chalk clinging to Sister Sarah’s dress as she stood over me. Her teeth bared, the veins on her forehead bulging.

  What was that sound?

  It filled the room, filled every corner and spilled over into my mind, the high-pitched animal wail of despair, hopelessness. I didn’t know the voice was mine until Sister hoisted me to her camphor smelling lips.

  “Shut-up, you little heathen. You’ll pay for this, girl. I promise you!”

  My head throbbed hard against my temples and white flashes, like summer lightening, danced in front of my eyes.

  “Sister Louisa! Sister Bernadette!” The head-mistress bellowed. “Come here!”

  Sister Bernadette grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into the pantry. Her large cumbersome body held the door fast against any attempt I might make to escape.

  “Take the Comanche upstairs,” Sister Enid ordered.

  “I’ll deal with the Apache girl later.”

  Soon the noise and memory of Sister Enid and Sister Sarah seemed to fade away, leaving me in a dark world filled with quiet numbness.

  I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember was standing at the top of a long stairway, supported by Sister Louisa and Sister Bernadette, while Sister Enid looked on.

  You think you’re smart, like all you thieving, murdering Apache kind. But you’re not smart.” Sister Enid said. “You’ll end up in jail or on a reservation bearing some no-good Indian’s brats, or die like a dog. There’ll never be a place for you in the white world. Remember that girl!”